The Devil wears Westwood
by Lily Joanne Potter
Summary: John x Jim kind of thing. Torture, we are terrible people. M for language and violence.


_**Hello again! Another John Watson and James Moriarty fanfic here - but this one is a cleaner version kinda. Still swearing in there, but a lot cleaner. Written with a different friend, not Uther. I'm still Moriarty**_ :)  
><em><strong>Much love! Lily Joanne Potter &amp; friend. xxx<strong>_

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><p><span>John Watson<span>  
>John's eyes opened slowly. As the darkness cleared, he became painfully aware he was no longer in the flat, and groaned slightly as he looked down at himself.<p>

Oh, shit.

James Moriarty

"Oh good, you're awake." There wasn't much point coming out of the shadows just yet, but he was pretty sure John would recognise his voice. They had, after all, had a nice little chat at the pool.

John Watson

He growled under his breath as he pushed himself into a sitting position against the wall someone had propped him against. "Moriarty."

James Moriarty

His laughter echoed around the room. "Hi!" This was too much fun, hurting John, and in doing so hurting Sherlock mentally. They were just so fragile, it almost made Moriarty feel bad to play them as a game. But then again.

John Watson

"What do you want?" he hissed. He knew the answer in truth - he was never a person in Moriarty's eyes, just bait for another of his little dances, this ongoing tango that he and Sherlock had.

James Moriarty 

"Nothing much." He mused, still hidden away in the shadows. "But don't worry, today it's going to be all about you. No Sherlock to interfere. I made sure of that." At his feet, there was a knife; Jim kicked it forward, just out of reach of John's feet. "I wouldn't go for it if I were you, unless you're desperate. The more you move, the quicker Sherlock dies."

John Watson

"What do you m- what have you done to Sherlock?" John's heart hammered against his ribcage.

James Moriarty

Finally, Jim emerged from the darkness, the light causing his features to stand out, but most of all, his sick, twisted grin. "I haven't done anything to him. Sebastian however... No, I wanted to play with Sherlock's toy." In a stage whisper, he added "He needs to learn how to share!" The toy he was referring to was obviously John - No, not a toy, more like a pet.

John Watson

John licked his bone-dry lips, his face paling ever so slightly. He started to stand. "If you've hurt him..."

James Moriarty

"Ah!" He pointed at John, tutting. "Don't move, Soldier. That's an order." A sickly smile formed on James' lips. "If you know what's good for you." Jim took a few steps forward to loom over John. "You're very disobedient."

John Watson

"I don't take orders from you."Despite this, he stopped where he was. That sickly smile made his stomach turn. It was unlikely Moriarty would win in combat with John, but it was never that simple. He'd kill him right now, if it wasn't for the looming prospect of Sherlock being in danger.

James Moriarty

A small snort escaped from Moriarty. Poor John. He looked petrified and angry, and Jim was sure that John could easily kill him - but no, Sherlock was keeping him back. "You want to hurt me, don't you? But Sherly's stopping you. He always stops you. Isn't that annoying?"

John Watson

John kept his eyes fixed on the ground, focusing on keeping his breathing steady and regulated. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Stay calm. Lose it and there goes any chance of getting out of this in one piece.

James Moriarty 

"Hmm?" Jim asked again. This was where he was hoping to see John loose his patience, his calm, and hopefully his morals. " 'Sherlock Holmes, solves another crime with style!' 'Another case, another day out for Sherlock Holmes!' Come on, you follow him like a fucking puppy!" His voice rose in volume, and Jim frowned. "Must be annoying, being forgotten all the time."

John Watson

"I wouldn't expect you to understand," he muttered. It sounded less assured than he'd meant it to, his voice shook without his consent. He shut his eyes momentarily.

James Moriarty

Oh, but he did. "I do, I really do. All MY plans, taken for credit by other people? It's annoying and tedious. I try /so hard/ to make things work, and then someone takes my glory!" There was a slight shake in his voice as Jim started to shout again. It did make him angry, but only to an extent. But John didn't need to know that.

John Watson

His eyes narrowed. "Must be so hard for you." He realised he was chewing on the inside of his cheek, tasted blood in his mouth. Moriarty was somehow less sinister when he shouted; it was the quietly happy man with the sickly smile who sent chills up John's spine.

James Moriarty

"Well, you know how it is." Jim smiled, rolling his eyes as he calmed down. "All that hard work... Say, what DO you do when you're at the crime scene? Sherlock doesn't really need you, does he? He is quite the brain box, after all."

John Watson

"Just get to the point," he spat. He could feel his morale starting to buckle. /Weak/, he admonished silently, but there was nothing he could do about it.

James Moriarty

He hissed, leaning over to talk in his ear. "Tell, John, what is your purpose? Do you even HAVE a purpose when you're with Sherlock?" It was showing in John's eyes and in his voice - he was giving up, way too easily.

John Watson

Of course he had a purpose. He was Sherlock's friend. As far as he could fathom, the only person that Sherlock could tolerate fully, save perhaps Lestrade, or Mrs Hudson.

Somehow, John couldn't make it into words. His lips parted and closed silently.

James Moriarty

"Wait, you don't have a purpose?" it took all his might not to laugh as he mocked John, gasping as if in a pantomime. Jim was slowly picking at the threads of John's existence, turning him into nothing but a ball of cotton.

John Watson

"Of course - I have - a purpose," he answered through gritted teeth. How much more of this humiliation would he have to take? And where was Sherlock?

James Moriarty

Jim pouted at John. "I can't see it. In fact, no one can. Just Sherlock then? And where is he now?" he teased, and shrugged absentmindedly.

John Watson

"You tell me." He loathed to even entertain the notion, but Moriarty may be right. What _was_ his purpose? As much as he resented being referred to as a pet by his flatmate's enemies, he couldn't help but think it was a fairly accurate description some days.

James Moriarty

"Well I dunno!" playing dumb with John amused Jim even more. John was a crumbling mess without his owner, and Jim wanted to strain the bond further. "You would think he'd sort out my Seb by now to come and save his princess."

John Watson

"Doesn't look like he's joining the party," John growled, muscles tensed. Oh, what he'd give to be able to beat that smug smile off Moriarty's face. His left hand began to shake violently. He'd met Colonel Sebastian Moran only once, briefly - it was enough to know the man was a machine. A big machine. He didn't even want to think about what damage he might cause to Sherlock's slight, gangly frame.

James Moriarty

It made Jim burst out laughing at John's pathetic attempt to keep in his anger. "Oh, I love parties." he smirked playfully. "Shame Sherlock isn't here, rescuing you. That's all he ever seems to do, isn't it?"

John Watson

"Stop it. Stop it now." Moriarty must surely have him here for some reason other than to taunt him... Although with him one could never be sure. He was almost like a child... Unpredictable, changeable.

James Moriarty

"Stop what?" the sentence was almost sung, with the small playful grin tugging at the corners of Moriarty's lips.

John Watson

"WHY," he shouted, "AM I HERE, MORIARTY?" He was straining. He'd let himself crack. The moment the words were out of his mouth, he mentally kicked himself.

James Moriarty

Moriarty pouted at John, sighing under his breath. "I only wanted to give you a bit of company. When was the last time you saw Sherlock? Hmm?"

John Watson

"Y-yesterday." John did not like where this was going. All sorts of horrible scenarios presented themselves to him; he couldn't think of a single thing that Moriarty would be past doing given the chance.

James Moriarty

He knew about their argument. All over a dog, it made Moriarty laugh. In the end, it had concluded badly. "What was the last thing you said to him, John?" he asked, lacing his tone with curiosity.

John Watson

Still leaning against the wall, he groaned. "Th-that I was moving out," he muttered.

James Moriarty

"Sorry, I didn't hear you." Teasing John was now the best way to play on his heart strings. Moriarty knew how much Sherlock meant to John.

John Watson

"I said I was moving out," he said a little louder. It was almost physically sickening, the hold this man had over him.

James Moriarty

Before he answered again, Jim let an eerie silence fall. "You're moving out?" He frowned, acting sympathetic towards John.

John Watson

John gritted his teeth. "No." It was something said in the heat of the moment, of course he hadn't meant it. He'd contemplated it, yes, several times - anyone who could live with Sherlock and not consider moving out probably had something wrong with them - but he knew he could never do it.

James Moriarty

"Does Sherlock know that?" Oh, the dull drama of their lives. How interesting it must be living in that state of a flat. But it was only the best for Moriarty. He gave a little false gasp. "Maybe he doesn't care... I mean, did he ever care?"

John Watson

That was it. Throwing everything to the winds, including - probably - any chance of getting out of there alive, John hurled himself at Moriarty, one hand closing around the man's throat and the other scrabbling for the knife on the cold floor.

James Moriarty

The attack should have taken him by surprise, but Jim was prepared - DUH. In the time it took for John to grab the knife, Moriarty had span out of the way, dropping a kick into John's rib cage. Hopefully it would wind him, but to make sure, Jim pulled John up by the collar. On his wrist, Jim applied pressure and twisted to make John drop the knife. "Tut tut, Johnny Boy. I thought better of you."

John Watson

Shit. John growled under his breath as the knife clattered to the floor, his other hand struggling to prise Moriarty's fingers from his collar as he gasped. The man, however slight, was surprisingly strong.

James Moriarty

As he opened his mouth to continue, there was a faint creaking of the door behind them both. James, having his back to it all, couldn't be certain who it was but he did not turn to look. "Hello." He said sweetly with a smile, giving John a quick look.

John Watson

John caught the glance, and his stomach turned. Moran loomed up in the doorway, something small and navy-blue hanging from one of his large hands. Sherlock's scarf. And there were crimson bloodstains at the end of it.

He held up his other hand. A short, stubby knife protruded from it, also stained red.

James Moriarty

The look on John's face was a look of utter terror. Excellent. That narrowed down who it was standing at the door. "Is he dead?"

"Sir." Moran mumbled, letting the knife fall to the floor. It clattered as it hit the cold floor, covering the noise of Sebastian's steps towards the two. "I need a word."

John Watson

Still in Moriarty's grip, John's head whirled. Sherlock. /Sherlock/.

He couldn't be dead. Surely Moriarty wouldn't have him killed off like this - he'd want it to be more dramatic, more suited to his twisted sense of humour.

Wouldn't he?

James Moriarty

"A word." That didn't sound good, not at all. Moriarty specifically said to Moran /not/ to kill his pest. No, Jim wanted the honour of doing that. "Pick the knives up, Moran." He let out a sigh, looking back to John. "We're going to leave you here for a minute. Be a good boy now." There was only one way out, which was the door from which Moran entered from. John wouldn't be going anywhere. Once Seb had picked up the knives, Jim pulled the scarf from his grip, and brought it to his nose, inhaling it. "Won't be long." The two men left the room, and Jim threw the scarf behind him.

John Watson

John crossed the room with a couple of shaky steps, stooping to pick up the scarf. The blood on it was still fresh.

No, no, no...

Calm. Compose yourself. There may still be a chance. They could be lying to you.

James Moriarty

Outside, Moran shut the door, glaring at Moriarty. "That isn't his blood."

Jim's eyes dropped, and he gave a small, disappointed smile. "I know it isn't, twat, you wouldn't disobey me. Whose /is/ it then? Where is he now?" Although Sebastian wouldn't disobey Jim, him being here wasn't a good sign either.

"I don't know, boss. It's some woman off the street. Thought you wanted to keep up the plot." It was a risky thing what Seb did, but he only wanted to please.

A woman, Jim could deal with that. As long as Sherlock wasn't dead. "How the hell did he escape?" His voice shrieked, maybe loud enough for John to hear.

John Watson

John's heart leapt. He'd escaped. He was alive.

No, wait. Don't get too excited.

Pretend you didn't hear.

But Sherlock was okay... well, not dead. That was certainly a start. Now he could focus on keeping himself in the same condition.

James Moriarty

"You know what, never mind. Fucking idiot..." Jim shoved Seb's shoulder back, frowning and snarling as he entered the room. "C'mon, John. I'm tired of playing this game."

John Watson 

"What?" he snapped, still clutching the scarf.

James Moriarty

It was cute, seeing John in this state. "Hit me. Come on, hit me." Jim raised his hands, giving John an encouraging, sick smile. "I know you want to."

John Watson

John's hands dropped to his sides. There was nothing good that could possibly come of doing what Moriarty said. "No."

James Moriarty "You've wanted to ever since you arrived." He'd been observing John from the start; call it a sort of character development. "So why not?"

John Watson

"Because /you're/ telling me to." he said, his upper lip curling slightly. "Where's Sherlock?"

James Moriarty

Jim shrugged. "Oi, big boy, where's pretty boy?" He turned to face Moran, and he gave a small nod.

"In a skip." A mutter from Moran would have barely been heard if it wasn't for the echo of the room.

John Watson

"I don't believe you." He watched Moriarty and Moran, eyes flicking from one to the other.

James Moriarty

Another sweet smile formed on Jim's lips. "Oh deeeeeeeeear. Where do you think he is then, sweetcheeks?"

John Watson

"I don't know," he said, squaring up to him, eyes narrowing.

James Moriarty

"Too bad," Jim snorted, throwing his hands in the air. "At least you've got his scarf, huh?"

John Watson

The scarf.

Without stopping to think, John wrapped each end of the scarf around his hands and flung himself at Moriarty, hooking it tight around his neck. He had a chance to end the nightmarish man and he would take it, gladly.

James Moriarty

It happened a little too fast for Jim's liking. John had taken him by surprise, in fact. Why punch Jim, if he could strangle him instead? Clever, very clever. James felt his airways constrict, but as Moran moved to help, Jim shooed him away. He didn't put up a fight, though. "Kill me, John." He choked, amusement swimming in his eyes.

John Watson

"Happily," he growled, tightening the scarf. Why wasn't he resisting?

James Moriarty

A small whimper emerged from Jim's throat. He could only hold his breath for so long, and the surprise of it all hadn't given James much time to take in enough air. Even as he started to turn a ghastly white, Jim's smile never faded.

John Watson

"I'm sure Sherlock would have wanted the pleasure," he hissed, "but he'll have to forgive me."

James Moriarty

"Goodb-" the sentence was never ended. Jim Moriarty let his last breath sigh out of him, a cold, dead slab of a body.

He couldn't believe it. Moran had just seen his boss /let/ someone kill him. Anger began to bubble up in his chest. "You..."

John Watson

John dropped Moriarty quickly, backing up. The world was rid if James Moriarty, but it would be rid of him too if he didn't act fast...

James Moriarty

Dead. Sebastian let his chest raise and fall, not afraid to show his frustration. It would be too easy, to snap his neck just like that. Moran had done it before. Another step forwards, and still no movement from Jim. Part of him wanted this to be some kind of set up, but no one called 'cut' or jump in to stop him from wrapping his hands around John's fragile neck..

John Watson

Fight or flight, that was the question. He didn't fancy his chances with Moran, especially when only the hulking colonel was armed, but there didn't appear to be an exit not blocked by his huge frame either.

James Moriarty

Looming over Jim, Sebastian looked down. He just didn't know what to say to the bastard, dead at his feet. If he was going to things his way, he wanted to make John pay slowly. "... Get out."

John Watson

John stared at him for a long moment, but decided he didn't need asking twice. As he headed for the door he knew this wasn't the last he would see of Colonel Sebastian Moran, but for now, he was alive.

James Moriarty

Once John had left, Moran scooped the limp, lifeless body into his arms. He didn't care what his orders were. There was no way Sebastian was just going to let him stay dead like this.

Their contract was bound, and to Moran, his duty to protect Jim wasn't over.


End file.
